


Promises, Promises.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Sam's filthy mouth will be the death of Dean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For somersault_j who posted this list of prompts in a peach post, and I promised there'd be fic...Unbeta'd so all grammar issues are mine.

Dean's phone vibrates against his chest and he realises he's been warming this particular bar stool for over two hours. "Yeah Sammy, I'm comin', sorry. Got caught up wi...

"You **will** be."

Dean pulls the phone away from his ear just to check it really is his brother's number calling before putting it back to his cheek and laughing. "Will be what?"

"Coming. _Hard._ "

There's suddenly no air in the bar and Dean's very aware his phone speakers are loud as hell. "Sam, what you doing?"

"Running the edge of my thumb nail along my weeping slit. You?"

Dean's cheeks are flaming, and he's absolutely sure the entire of the bar is watching him squirm on his stool. "Seriously, Sam, cut it out."

"No. Not when the image of you spread eagled, ankles tethered to the bed posts, wrists covered in rope burns, completely ruined asshole dripping my come back on to the ratty sheets, is doing fabulously filthy things to my already rock hard cock."

Dean's dick fills and fattens against his thigh and he almost cries out in pain at the intensity of want coursing along his veins, forcing his breath out in sharp little pants. "Sam, I'm in the middle of a bar, **stop it!** "

"Come really isn't that salty, is it?"

Dean can hear Sam's lips smacking and _knows_ he's sucking his thumb between those perfect lips of his. "Jesus, Sammy, are you trying to kill me?"

"I'd be quick if I were you, big brother, 'cause I'm minutes away from finishing myself off."

The force with which Dean shoves away from the bar almost topples the stool he's been squirming on for the last few minutes.

The barmaid follows his pert pinch-able ass out of the bar and smirks before shaking her head and going back to cleaning glasses. "Lucky bastard."


End file.
